


Streets and Lanes

by IndigoJones



Category: Death Note
Genre: Drug Abuse, Explicit Rape, Gang Rape, M/M, dead dove do not eat, perpetrator viewpoint, rape - no recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:51:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoJones/pseuds/IndigoJones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Death Note Kink meme prompt 'L gets gang banged by criminals when he was a teenager. The horrid situation becomes a major factor of why he is emotionally detached towards others.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Streets and Lanes

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning: This is the darkest thing I've ever written. Explicit rape and nothing sexy.
> 
> Also - For technical reasons that will become obvious I've gone with L's anime birth year of 1982.

The next one was a speed freak. He didn’t need to ask. He just stared up from under his sopping dark hair and it was obvious what he was about. I shook my head, went back to the car and waited.

The rain was coming down in sheets, bouncing off the roadway, battering against the old railway bridge. Kid had kind of huddled himself under a concrete overhang but he was still getting soaked. Eventually he gave up and slid down the wall, holding his knees to himself.

‘You still here?’

He gave me the same Bambi-on-sulphate stare.

‘I’m worried about you. You got anywhere to go?’

Kid chewed on his thumbnail. It was probably a ‘phet tic but it made him look terrified.

‘I’m not going to hurt you.’

He looked at the floor.

‘It doesn’t look like anything’s happening here. Can I get you a coffee at least?’

The kid said nothing but as I walked off I could hear his trainers squelching behind me.

 

*

 

Kid didn’t seem to know how to sit on a chair. He kept trying to squat like he had out on the street. I went up to order and by the time I got back he’d dripped a puddle all over the formica. I put two styrofoam cups on the table which he ignored in favour of sneaking sugar sachets into his pockets.

‘So you on the run, kid?’

The silence wasn’t right. Phet kids talk your hind legs off. Kid just sat there not saying a word. Maybe it was something else: ketamine, acid, perhaps he was the sort of kid that got really trippy on MDMA. 

‘Can I call anyone? Your folks must be worried right now?’

Kid lifted the lid off his cappuccino and smiled at it. Close up his eyes were bruised to near blackness. He must just walk and walk until he crashes. He held the lid as if it might hurt him; too delicately, pinching it between his fingers and thumb.

‘Do you have anywhere to go?’

I took the lid off my own coffee and looked at the brown goo where the sprinkles had melted. The kid started moaning. I looked up. He had his tongue straight out, lapping at the inside of his lid with practiced, deliberate licks. It looked obscene.

‘Don’t do that.’

He straightened slightly and stopped.

‘It’s bad. You look dirty when you do that.’

Kid looked at the table and started ripping open the sugar sachets and pouring them into his open coffee. I sighed.

‘Listen kid, I don’t want to do this but I can’t see you go back out there. How about you come sleep at mine?’

That registered. It was difficult to know what does when they’re spacey but his saucer-like speed-blown eyes flicked up from his coffee and latched onto mine.

‘We’ll have to call someone in the morning.’

He nodded.

We finished our coffees and left.

 

*

 

Kid was still wet when we got back to my place but he seemed shy to take his clothes off. I left him a towel, t-shirt and shorts and went to get a duvet from the bedroom. When I got back he’d got the t-shirt on inside out. I handed him the duvet and went into the kitchen. Kid looked like he hadn’t eaten in the last ten years.

I pulled my chair close to him and held out the mug of soup. He turned his nose up and went back to resting his head on the sofa. He was shaking.

‘Come on, Kid,’ I said. ‘Promise it’ll make you feel better.’

He lifted his head and sniffed at it.

‘Goes down really easy.’

I reached my free hand into his hair.

‘Comes up easy too if you’re too strung out for it.’

His hair was thick and damp, pure black. There must be Asian in him to have hair like that; Indian or Chinese – Kid probably didn’t know himself. I stroked and he took the soup out of my hand and slurped it.

‘How long you been on the streets?’

He shrugged; eyes huge over the rim of the mug.

‘How old are you?’

I pulled the duvet closer around him.

‘Too young. I bet you can’t claim any benefits.’

He lowered his eyes into the soup.

‘It’s okay. I know what you do.’

I put my hand on his shoulder to ease the shaking, stroking that too.

‘You give handjobs don’t you?’

He stopped sipping. His body had gone tense.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,’ I said into his dark tangles. ‘It’s okay. I don’t think badly of you.’

I held him for a while until he relaxed a bit. I ran my finger over his earlobe.

‘Do they ever make you use your mouth?’

I took the half finished soup out of his hand.

‘Do you ever let them touch you?’

I slipped his earlobe into my mouth and sucked on it, one hand still in his hair, one hand sinking from his shoulder to the cotton shorts. I could feel his heart hammering wildly without trying, his pulse seemed to be everywhere, pounding and terrified.

‘I’m not going to hurt you.’

My fingers reached inside the fly until I was slowly stroking him.

‘I’m just going to make you feel nice.’

I got my whole hand around his head and started working into a rhythm.

‘Promise you, all I’m going to do is make you feel nice.’

 

*

 

‘You still here?’

Kid was crouched on the sofa pouring sugar sachets onto that long, skinny tongue of his.

‘I’m not angry, it’s just you can’t stay here. My landlord wont -,’

He put his fingers in his mouth, licking the last of the sugar of his lips with a deeply satisfied sigh. I backhanded him. 

‘I told you not to do that.’

He put his hand to his cheek. His freaky, outsize eyes were as big as ever. He must have stashed some drugs on his person. I sat down beside him and took his hand in mine.

‘I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.’ I touched the red mark on his pale cheek. ‘l just want you to take care of yourself that’s all.’ He smiled unsurely and then put his finger in his mouth.

‘Men who see you doing things like that will think they can do bad things to you. I’m just trying to keep you safe.’

He nodded, working his finger over his bloodless lips.

‘So why didn’t you go?’

I ran my hand from his cheek down his neck and over his collar bone. He looked like he was trying to duck further behind his knees.

‘It’s alright I’m not angry. If you just wanted to stay somewhere warm it’s okay.’

Kid shook his head almost imperceptibly. He kept looking at me with wide and terrified eyes. It must be dangerous, I thought, to look like that, to have it written across your face just how good you’d look in fear and pain.

‘Oh, I get it. The door jammed didn’t it? Sometimes the lock seizes from the inside.’

He nodded.

‘I didn’t lock you in on purpose.’

He lifted his head a little.

‘You can go out now if you want to. Or we could have tea first. It’s still raining.’

 

*

 

\- Get on with it. He’s starting to freak me out.

On Tuesday evening Mike called, wanting to know if things had gone to plan. He started to whistle down the line.

\- I just don’t feel good about this one.

\- Not pretty enough for you?

\- He looks -,

I wanted to say fine, but Kid looked nothing like fine. I wanted to say he looks like he’s put together from bits of left over nightmares. But I didn’t.

\- He looks like they all do. It’s just he’s mentally subnormal or something.

\- Does he look retarded?

\- No but he is. Doesn’t speak and spends most of the time staring.

-So -like that’s a bad thing? He probably won’t even know what’s happening to him.

When I got off the phone I went and knelt by Kid who was crouching on the floor by the sofa. I slipped my hand under his chin and lifted his face.

‘Kid, we’re in terrible trouble you and me.’

He surveyed me with his blank pupils. I’d got sick of the pupils. After three days I got worried that he was still getting stoned so I had made strip and let me search inside him. I didn’t want him poisoning himself with dirty street crap. He hadn’t plugged anything. His eyes must just be like that.

‘I didn’t want to tell you, but we got to get out of here.’

I stroked his cheek with my thumb. The bruise on his cheek was beginning to dissipate into yellows and browns.

‘I promise I’ll keep you safe but -,’

I dropped my head.

‘I’m behind on my rent. Very behind. The landlord gave me until today to pay up and I haven’t got the money.’

Kid remained impassive as I moved in; hugging his shoulders, trying not to overbalance him crouched in that position. I held him close and whispered into his ear:

‘You could help.’

Kid’s eyes went wide and reproachful. He looked like an animal, a cub, something dumb and winsome that thinks the world owes it a duty because it’s so damn vulnerable.

‘He likes boys.’

The world owes you nothing. It was here first.

‘I’d see to it – that you’d only have to use your mouth. That he wouldn’t hurt you or put anything inside you.’

I stroked his hair back behind his ear.

‘You’re a virgin aren’t you?’

He looked at the floor.

‘I felt you. You were so tight.’

I kept carding his heavy, thick hair.

‘It’s very special to be a virgin. It makes you very special.’

I kissed his smooth, cold cheek:

‘I won’t let him take that.’

 

*

 

Kid had his fingers in his mouth when Mike came in. He was actually biting his nails but it looked near enough to him sucking his thumb.

‘Fucking hell, you never told me you got a little ladyboy.’

I flicked on the video camera. Despite his overgrown hair, Kid didn’t really look girly. But there was no stopping Mike when he was off on one.

‘So you’re the kid who’s going to help Shay make his rent payments.’ He patted the sofa next to him.

‘He’s counting on you to be good, kid.’

I got a shot of the thumb sucking. It made for a good framing device. I could cut Mike’s crap and put over some music. For now I just concentrated on the set up, getting Kid’s terror as he inched towards the settee. He was barefoot, which was a nice touch.

Mike unbuttoned his fly and pulled his cock out, tossing it a little to make it half-hard. Kid’s eyes got even bigger and for a second I got a shot of him about to bolt. But then he pushed his head down and got right across to where Mike was waiting.

‘So, you sucky- sucky?’

We only needed enough for a teaser. Mike twisted his hand through Kid’s unruly hair, twining it up to force Kid’s mouth down on his cock. I thought he’d ram him down fingers and all but at the last moment Kid took his hand out and grabbed Mike’s shaft to stop Mike from choking him.

Kid was obligingly awful at cocksucking. He gagged and retched and Mike kept having to yank his hair to get him to keep his face up. I got round the back of the sofa, filming over Mike’s shoulder, getting that perfect moment of misery in those black, black pupils when he realised it was going to keep on and it was going to get worse. After five minutes of letting Kid weakly slobber about the end of his cock, Mike finally grabbed his head and started to fuck it.

There were no pretty noises like when he ate sugar. Kid whined and started to scream and sob. I shushed him and told him it would only make it worse. I told him to try and relax. The camera caught his stomach moving, pushing up as if he wanted to puke Mike right out of his body.

When he came Mike crushed Kid’s head into his crotch. Cum and snot shot out Kid’s nose; when Mike let go he threw up on the carpet. Mike knocked him around a couple of times and made him clean it up. I wanted to get a bookend closing shot of Kid with his fingers in his mouth again, but he didn’t seem to want to.

When Mike left I ran Kid a nice hot bath while I uploaded the video. The bathroom’s only got a tiny roof light window - locked anyway -, and I don’t keep razorblades, so I reckoned it was safe to let him enjoy a bath. Besides, the edits take time; getting the sequence just so, blurring out Mike’s face without ruining any of Kid’s moments. It was better he was out the way.

Afterward, I let him wrap up in my dressing gown and gave him two aspirin pills. He kept touching his throat. I gave him a packet of Haribo and he chewed through them like a little squirrel.

He liked sweets.

 

*

 

Kid was perched on the sofa when I came home the next day. I stroked his hair gently and handed him a paper bag of fizzy fish before I sat down at the computer.

The drive clicked, clunked and the fan went. A cursor line ran down the monitor screen. Nothing more happened. I powered off and started again. There was the same response. I swore and crashed my hands on the keyboard until Kid started shaking.

‘Did anyone tell you to keep your feet off the furniture?’

Kid slid his eyes off me and slipped a blue jelly fish into his mouth.

I crawled under the table and checked the connections at the back of the computer, pulling out the cables and re-attaching them. I turned the computer off on the wall and waited three minutes, staring at Kid on the sofa still with his feet on the cushions. He looked too monochrome; skin so pale and hair so black, it was like the world became less real around him.

The computer clunked again and sent its flickering white line into nothingness. I stood up and threw Kid onto the floor. For a while I lost myself, banging his head against the floorboards, knocking some manners into him. After a while the phone rang.

I explained the IT problem to Mike who sucked his teeth and cursed on the other end of the line. Like it was his place to be pissed off when I’d paid nearly a grand for that machine. I watched Kid slowly pull his limbs back into himself like a spider curling up under tap water. 

He looked better with bruises. He was less freaky showing blood under the skin, more human. He can bleed like everybody else. Really, his skin was so white it looked like powder, I thought he was wearing make up at first. I defy anyone to see skin like that and not want to batter it.

‘Sorry kid,’ I said, sitting down beside him. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just your so beautiful it makes me angry sometimes.’

No one could call him beautiful. Disturbing was more like it. To tell you the truth, it was giving me an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach having him round the place, the sort of feeling when you know someone is trouble. That’s why I told Mike internet or no it had to be this weekend. 

After a while Kid relaxed enough to let me help him back onto the sofa. He didn’t crouch. As he was being good I wrapped the duvet round him and got a bag of peas from the freezer to hold to his face. If his eyes hadn’t been so accusing I could almost have liked him. Queer, quiet little thing.

I picked up the paper bag and fed him fizzy fish from my fingers.

‘I don’t mean to hurt you.’

The sugar seemed to calm him. His eyes became distant, vacant. I’d heard brain injury can leave your pupils blown. Maybe we weren’t the first to get the idea to hurt him.

I held him and inched my hand under the duvet.

‘I just don’t want you getting into trouble.’

I wondered as I reached out to his smooth, slender cock if I was the first one to make him feel good like this. I hoped so.

‘I know if I didn’t lock you up you’d just go back to the streets doing bad things with strangers.’

He started hardening in my hand. His breaths were hard to gauge, sobbing or sighing, I didn’t really know.

‘Plus everyone now knows what a fantastic little cock sucker you are.’

His hips started moving jerkily to the rhythm of my hand. I took another jelly out of the bag and held it to his lips, teasing him with the stinging, sour sugar.

‘They’d all want a piece of it.’

I let him take the sweet into his mouth and moved my other hand under the blanket. His thighs had fallen apart and I could easily tease him, rolling his balls, stroking my fingers down his perineum to rub at the knot of his arse.

‘I just want to keep you safe.’

He came all over my hand.

 

*

 

I was glad when Saturday came. Kid was crouched on the floor eating smarties. Mike took twenty quid off the others to fuck him, so we had made a oner before we even began. Denny had brought a roll of old carpet and him and Mo rolled it out while I set up the camera on a tripod.

Kid didn’t even seem surprised when Mike grabbed him under his arms and dragged him but he kicked out when he realised we were going to tie him. I wasn’t sure about the carpet. I wished they had got a plain one, the red and blue was too busy to make a decent backdrop, the pattern was distracting. 

‘Play nice, kid,’ said Mike, slapping his face, ‘play nice and when you’re done here we’ll let you go.’ Kid was trying to kick at his crotch but Stevie had caught his legs and tied them with the spongy cable from his roof rack. 

‘Some help here, Shay,’ said Mike as Kid tried to scratch at his eyes with a hand he had worked free. I knelt down and held Kid’s arms above his head trying to shush him. 

‘Come on, Kid,’ I said, ‘It’s going to happen anyway and it’ll only hurt more if you fight it.’

Kid was hissing and screeching but we got him secure. I tied a rag over his mouth to cut out the worst of the noise. His eyes looked fantastic, rolling about in his head. I wanted to get a close up but I didn’t want to let go of the feeling of his arms, street-strong and powerless twitching underneath me.

Denny came in from the kitchen with a knife and cut his jeans off. Kid pissed himself. Mike got a towel and rubbed his crotch off then pushed the sopping cloth over his face, into his eyes and mouth. He screamed and gagged and a little more piss leaked out his cock. The scent was arousing; there was a prickle in the air. It was showtime.

Kid blinked endearingly when I pulled the towel off, trying to get the piss out of his eyes. They were a little redder than I’d have liked, but I thought that would soon wear off. I stroked his hair damp with his own urine. The smell was intoxicating.

‘Hush kid, hush.’ I said as I stroked. ‘You’re going to be raped now and the worse you fight it, the worse it’s going to be.’

Stevie was already unzipping. Kid was nearly chewing on the rag, attempting to get his mouth free. In a minute, I thought. In a minute I’m going to see those eyes how they should be.

‘Just relax,’ I said. ‘It’ll soon be over.’

Stevie had to hold his hips down and struggle to get in. Being the first one hurts, but Stevie was good at it, he just kept pushing and pushing until even with the gag Kid was screaming. He shut his eyes and I hit him until he opened them again, so I could see the realisation dawn that this was happening, the beautiful blank moment where the spirit breaks.

‘There,’ I said, ‘that’s not so bad, is it?’

Kid had bitten his mouth trying to work the gag free. It looked like the rape of a Disney princess, hair as black as ebony, skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood. There was blood on Stevie’s cock too as he thrust in and out. Kid couldn’t have taken my tip about relaxing.

Stevie started playing with Kid’s cock, more to humiliate him than anything else, he wasn’t getting much of a response from him. Stevie was the sort of guy who liked to tell the kids how much they liked it as he fucked them. Kid was trying to close his eyes again and I had to yank his hair to keep them open.

Kid was kind of convulsing. Nothing dangerous, but Stevie was thrusting so hard I could feel his strokes pushing through Kid’s arms and Kid’s whole body trying to spasm away from him. It happened some times. When Stevie came, Mo was already up and ready to go in.

Mo liked to slap the kids around. He had Denny hold a lighter to Kid’s nipples as he fucked him, nearly shooting his load early as the pain caused kid to tense up around him. By Denny’s turn Kid was more sobbing than screaming so he had me take the gag off to finish in his mouth. His cock smeared blood and cum all over Kid’s lips as he fucked his head, pulling out at last to come over his face.

Mike was a joker. He liked to quote movies. He pulled Kid up by his hair so he was almost on his lap, giggling into his ear, ‘Me so horny. Me so horny. Me love you long time.’ He dropped Kid back onto the carpet as he came, wiping his mouth, disgusted.

‘You stink of shit,’ he said.

Kid was sloppy with blood when it was my turn and you could tell he was getting tired. His hips were still; it was like fucking into dead meat. He was still making these delicate whimpering sounds as I thrust in to him, but it was like the fight had gone out of him and he just wanted me to get on with it. That took some of the fun out of it. Still, Kid looked lovely with all Denny’s cum sticking to his hair and I knew what was going to come next, which was enough to push me over.

Les was always the one to finish it. Despite the pain, Kid was nearly falling asleep by the time Les got inside him. I let his eyelids droop without interrupting, cradling his head, feeling his pulse still hammering. I’d got hard again thinking about what we were about to do. 

‘It’s alright,’ I said. ‘It’s alright. Nearly over.’

Kid blinked his eyes open. He had grey eyes. I’d not noticed that before. He had that wonderful, confused look that they get when even fear can’t compete with exhaustion.

‘It’s okay,’ I said, ‘You can sleep now.’

I ran my fingers over his arms, lax with approaching unconsciousness, smoothing them, milking out the last dregs of fear. Les was panting hard now and I knew his climax was coming so I slipped the belt around the top of Kids arm and pulled it taught. Thick veins sprung up in the crook of his elbow. I slid in the needle, looked up at Les, let the belt go and pushed in the plunger.

Kid smiled. They always do. I got one last glimmer of deep, black eyed gratitude before his eyes rolled shut and he went limp. Les grunted hard and came inside him.

Les wrapped Kid’s body in the duvet and chucked him in the bathtub while we cleaned up. Mo went home to his kids. The plan was to wrap Kid in the carpet and drive it out to Epping Forest. Stevie and Les had already dug a place and Denny had brought his van. It wasn’t like anyone was going to be looking for him. We just had to wait until it got dark. Mike went out for take away; Chinky, he laughed. It was kind of appropriate.

After dinner I went to the bathroom. It smelt fishy from Kid but there wasn’t any point in breaking out the room freshener until the body got taken out. There was a cold draft from the window and I noticed the catch had broken.

I stared into the bathtub and screamed. Kid had gone.

 

*

 

I heard the keys jangle in the lock before the screw pulled the door open. He grunted at me:

‘Your brief’s here.’

They led me out across the wing. Always two of them when we crossed communal spaces, they didn’t want any trouble like there had been when I was first brought in, any more delays caused by me being confined to hospital wing having my head stitched back together.

Even behind glass I could see the brief looked haggard. I hadn’t been expecting good news and it looked like she didn’t have any. The screw swung the interview room door shut.

She laid it on the line. Six counts of murder, one of attempted murder. She read out names of kids I didn’t know, it was only when she pulled out the photos I recognised them: Jason, Paul, Razaq, Tray, Tyler, Simon.

‘They’ve got a pretty tight case,’ she said. ‘The best I can do is try and get you off the first three. The only evidence is what’s on the hard drive and you didn’t kill them on camera.’

‘The hard drive?’

‘The kid sent it to the Chief Inspector.’

We hadn’t killed the first one on camera because we hadn’t meant to kill him at all. Mo had just been mucking around with a bin bag and he’d accidentally asphyxiated. But it kind of made a good ending and it tied up loose ends. It’s not like the kids would want to live afterwards.

‘It was an accident,’ I said. ‘The kids knew what they signed up for. We gave them drugs as payment but some of them went over.’

‘Fentanyl,’ said the brief.

I said nothing.

‘Five Fentanyl overdoses in East London. Fentanyl doesn’t leak out onto the street much.’

It must have been the drug that had Kid connect the cases.

‘The police found him with the amp in his hand.’

I inspected the chipped table.

‘It’s a hundred times stronger than morphine. You knew that injection would send them over.’

Not all of them. Razaq and Simon we had to finish with pillows. But I wasn’t going to tell her that.

‘But the files were closed,’ I said. The files were closed. Denny had worked as a forensic courier at Snow Hill. He’d kept his eyes open. ‘Lack of evidence.’

‘There’s certainly not a lack of evidence now.’

You hate me. I thought. She didn’t need to tell me. She didn’t need to remind me of the custody officers swabbing my cock in the process room of the nick. Even with the video deleted there must have been enough evidence in Kid to convict us all.

‘The best I can do is get some of it discounted. God knows how he got a wire-tap on your phone, but without authorisation it’s probably inadmissible.’

‘But he – he was kind of retarded.’

‘His statement was very thorough. Do you want me to read it out?’

‘He can talk?’

‘Yes,’ she said, holding a sheaf of witness statements. I noticed her fingers were nicotine stained. ‘He can certainly talk.’

As she read out the statement, I couldn’t help but wonder what his voice sounded like. Frightened, maybe hesitant, chewing on his thumbnail, mumbling as they pulled out the shameful truth. No, that would be wrong; listening to his words, to the excruciating details, I knew his voice would be low and cold, the black eyes unflinching.

‘Would you like to take a break?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘I’m fine.’

‘It’s in the statement,’ said the brief. ‘They have to write down everything he said. He might have detected some of the officers getting uncomfortable at that point.’ I could see why. As she read on, I could picture it; policemen gathered around a bed, Kid bug eyed and scrawny in a hospital gown. Kid replaying the assault like a tape recorder occasionally breaking to point to evidence for the other cases. Jason was three years ago; the pigs must have been sick to their stomachs at this mongrel street kid easily rattling off the links that had eluded them.

This cannot be real, I thought. This is a frame-job; the kid must be a zombie or a robot.

‘Any comments?’

‘It’s a stitch up,’ I said.

‘Yes,’ she said, putting the witness statements back into a manila envelope. ‘Yes, you truly have been completely stitched up.’

‘But surely that’s illegal.’

‘He’s not a Police Officer,’ she shrugged. ‘As I said, I think I can get some of the evidence dismissed, but most of it is completely legitimate. I think we can argue consent on the rape matter, depends on the jury but for the last three murders the case is watertight.

‘He’ll have to go on the witness stand,’ I said. It was my last hope. Surely the jury would see through the kid, see his unreality. How could he be credible?

‘Video link,’ she said. 

Stage managed then. Protected by a screen as if he was traumatised so giving the illusion he was capable of trauma.

‘What’s his name?’ I asked, suddenly wanting something, anything on my attacker.

‘They won’t release his name.’

I raised my eyebrows.

‘Oh I see,’ I said. ‘Under eighteen.’

‘Yes. For the trial he’ll be known by initial only.’

She smiled.

‘He’ll be called L.’


End file.
